Cracking Humans
by TheWritingGup
Summary: It was the dagger than had compelled me to plan a runaway. Yes, life was good, fantastic. I had no issues, a loving family, and no known enemies. But just finding this dagger with an unknown past made me want to leave, travel across my country and countries further. [Fantasy AU, eventual Female Spamano, sporadic updates]
1. Exit

AN: /. This came to me when trying to name **Cracks of a Human AU. **Hell, this is the reason I didn't name **CoaHAU **this. I feel like Lorena is a bit OOC, but I'm trying to get Lovino into her personality as well? Lorena is said to be tougher and respected, but Lovino is crass and weak. Eh, she level out as this progresses I feel.

I have a general idea laid out, but no set ideas.

**Characters: **Lorena Vargas, Feliciano Vargas, Lorenzo Acerbi **TBA**

**Rating: **T

**Final Word Count [excluding Author's Note]: 2,031**

**-[-]-[-]-[-]-[-]-[-]-**

I got the point, and the point was that it's hard to explain things to children. Not children like a teenager, but an actual _child. _Doe-eyed little kids who didn't seem to understand the concept of privacy. Small, fleshy, grabby hands that would dig through everything a woman holds sacred. Loud curiosity that could deafen any sane soul, couple with innocence and naivety that required constant reassurance.

So maybe that's why I found Feliciano rummaging around our room. Well, the whole family's room honestly. Our small, wooden walled house with a wood stove in the corner. A metal pot stationed by the stove for fixing meals, dented from the few times it had been either dropped or thrown. We had a small cooking slate, but during the last winter, we had to sell it.

Four simple chests for each of us to hold what little possessions we owned. They were a simple brown with a single latch. The latch on mine had broken from my constant opening and closing of it, for when I would have to switch from my trousers to one of my dresses.

Mother didn't personally mind when I wore trousers, nor did Father. She claimed it was easier [and cheaper] than making a work dress. She personally would never wear a pair of them.

Our chests lined our bed, which was a rare commodity. It was a large sheet stuffed with feathers, leaves, and any other soft down they could find, placed up a small frame composed of sticks. It was comfortable, and it never gave a rough night.

There was a window towards the door, which proved great for hanging our clothesline from window to the tree in the front yard.

The house was comfortable, always giving off a sense of security. We were safe in that house; Father never had any spouts of anger, and Mother loved both me and Feliciano equally. Both of them support me and him, even when Feliciano wanted to start wearing dresses. Mother could take one of my old dresses and tailor it to him.

When Grandfather came, it was a different story. We would be stuffed into our best dresses and suits, hair washed and properly tied. He would shower little Feliciano in gifts, giving Mother a brooch each time, one from each exotic land he would visit. Father would receive some new dress shoes to look best around the shop he worked at. I would always receive a headband in the same fashion as Mother would.

However, as soon as I would slide on the headband, his full attention would be on Feliciano and Mother, never batting an eye towards me nor Father.

I don't think he liked Father. Maybe because Father wasn't the richest man, but he still wanted to marry Mother, and Grandfather had been about to say no, but something about how _happy _Mother had looked had convinced him.

Grandfather probably didn't like _me, _seeing as how I looked like Father. We both had the olive-toned complexion compared to the lighter Mother and Feliciano. We shared the green eyes and dark brown hair, though mine was a bit longer than Father's, brushing my shoulders. Father and I shared the same baby-face complexion. People had said before that I looked like a younger version of Father, especially when I wore the trousers.

Feliciano and Mother were lighter than me and Father. They shared the matching brown hair and brown eyes, though sometimes their hair would look more auburn. Mother naturally had longer hair, which framed her sharper features. Feliciano was baby-faced like Father, but he was still a little child.

I, like Mother and Feliciano, shared an odd curl we had inherited from Grandfather.

It was obvious why Grandfather liked Feliciano more.

But when Grandfather would leave, we would strip of our nice clothes, nicely folding them into squares and slipping into our night clothing. Mother and Father would ask us how we here, to make sure Grandfather's visit hadn't rattled us too hard. Feliciano was always fine, prattling on about how much he loved Grandfather and what not.

Truthfully, when I told them that I had enjoyed the visit, it was a partial lie. I always felt abandoned and ignored when Grandfather came. It was the only time when our house _didn't _feel safe.

Then, at night, when my family had fallen asleep, I would slip out of bed. Opening the brown chest, I would push past my clothes. To the bottom of the bin I went.

Beneath a thin sheet, there laid a dagger. It was about two feet and bronze, the leather grip wrapping the handle. I had found it somewhere when I had taken the fruits to the market. When I had exchanged the fruits for some fabric and some meat, I placed the dagger in some crook.

Every night I would run my fingers across the blade. It was dull. It was old.

It was the dagger than had compelled me to plan a runaway. Yes, life was good, fantastic. I had no issues, a loving family, and no known enemies. But just _finding _this dagger with an unknown past made me want to leave, travel across my country and countries further. Leaving would be hard. Mother would weep. I could see Father's dull eyes when he found out. The last time I had seen that look, he had to sell one of Mother's brooches in order to keep our store open.

The worse part would Feliciano's wide eyes. I could almost see them filling up with tears. Despite sometimes how I may have acted in the past, I truly did care for my little brother. He was my world, one of the reasons I worked so hard.

_But I __**needed **__to leave._

And when I would finish up with the dagger, I would check the fabric. The fabric was canvas, suitable for being a bag.

I had all intentions of leaving before my next birthday.

And I guess that Feliciano had seen me one night. The next morning, when Mother and Father went to get eggs from the chicken coup, he tugged on my pants with his small hands.

"Lorena," he said, "what's the dagger for?"

My throat went dry. "Huh? What dagger? I don't know what you're talking about, Feliciano."

"I saw you though! Playing with it after we all went to bed! What's it for?" he asked, eyes wide.

I couldn't let him know the real reason. He would tell Mother. He would foil the whole plan. They would send me away to a work camp or some variation to keep me from leaving. They would sell the dagger for the money.

"Why, Feliciano, it's for when I go flower picking. After all, you know how Mother likes to decorate once in a while," I said.

He cocked his head to one side. "Why is it so big then? Couldn't you get a sma-"

I interrupted him, kneeling in front of him, and my hands on his shoulders. "You see, Feli, this is a secret between us." He leaned closer, intrigued. "I _found_ it when I went to the market a few months back. I didn't get to pick it."

Feliciano pouted for a few minutes. I saw the gears turning in his head.

Giving a bright smile, he laughed. "Alright! If Sister says so!" he exclaimed. "Can we go later? Get some more flowers for Mother?"

That seemed like the perfect moment to get my sack out with some food. It gave me a reason to go to the Meadow and stash. "Of course Feliciano." I sweetly kissed his forehead.

Later, after Feliciano left, I went back, claiming I needed to get the dagger. I grabbed the sack, hand hovering over my family's food. Could I take this from my family?

Slowly, I grabbed some bread and some fruit, not looking as I tossed it in.

The first time I had stolen from someone.

**-[-]-[-]-[-]-[-]-[-]-**

"Oh, cut some of the blue ones!" Feliciano said, pointing excitedly at the bush.

Chuckling, I avoided the thorns, cutting a few of them. Handing them to my brother, I watched as he put them towards the Meadow entrance.

This was the perfect time. I dug a whole into the ground, pulling the dirt fore ward. It was a shallow whole, maybe six inches deep.

I put the larger part of the bag into the whole. The empty flat lay against the ground. I push the dug up dirt on the bulging part.

Leaning back on my heels, I could barely see the bag, which was a good thing. No one would see it, which lowered the threat risk.

I heard a gasp behind me, turning in panic. "Feliciano? What's wrong?"

"Nothing! Come cut these yellow ones! They're so pretty!"

Looking at them, I had to agree. The middle was darker, more like an orange. It extended outwards and it extended into white.

I slid the stems between my fingers. Gently I cut them as to not fray the stems. I handed them to Feliciano, piling them in his arms with the blues, oranges, and reds.

"I think we've got enough, huh?" I asked.

His brown eyes looked at me, filled with so much joy and enjoyment. "Yeah! Mother will love them!" he exclaim.

I smiled, rubbing his hair. "Let's go home."

**-[-]-[-]-[-]-[-]-[-]-[-]-**

When we went home, after dinner, Feliciano asked to braid the flowers into my hair. I had agreed, sitting against the bed while he sat on it.

Mother and Father smiled at us. They liked it when we were loving and doting in front of them. Mother was washing the dishes while Father polished his shoes.

Feliciano must have learned to braid from Mother. His thick fingers went through my hair. The flowers where lined up with the chunks of hair he held. I felt bad, as if he couldn't do too much due to my shorter hair, but he was happy regardless.

They stuck.

When Feliciano finished, he asked Mother if he could do it. She agreed, letting the orange and red ones adorn her head.

By time we went to bed, we all had the flowers on our head. Feliciano had fashioned a crown for Father, placing it upon his skull. Feliciano did for himself like wise.

**-[-]-[-]-[-]-[-]-[-]-**

I tugged on my trousers, tucking my night dress into it.

Why tonight? Why was tonight the night I decided to leave? Maybe so my food wouldn't go bad. Even after Feliciano and I had picked the flowers, braided them into my hair so kindly.

He was always so kind.

I pulled out the dagger. It felt heavier, like it knew what I was doing.

I tucked it into my waistband, staring at my sleeping family. They looked so peaceful, so happy. So relaxed.

I started to walk away from my chest before I stopped.

Reaching back, I fingered the flowers. I couldn't leave with them. They would be a constant reminder of what I had left behind. Of the better times I had shared, and not this delusional idea I had. They would always remind me of _him, _even after they died. Just knowing I held them once hurt.

Swallowing, I slowly untangled them from my hair, pulling them out. It ruined the short braid, but that could be fixed.

I placed them between Mother and Feliciano, a small smile on my features. I could see the relation now.

I gave each of them a gentle kiss on the forehead. Could I really do this? Could I really leave my perfect life? All because of a stupid dagger I was going to give up my perfect life?

What a ridiculous thought.

My mind was set though, ignoring my heart.

When I reached the door, I stared back at my house. The bent up pot, the endearing bed, the old wood stove, and the string wrapped around a peg in the window.

I would probably need that string. Casting a long glance at the floor, I unwound the string, tightening it around my wrist.

Again, I stole from my family.

And sadly, it was beginning to feel natural.


	2. Elise

AN: /. I hate this already. However, I took the moment to slip in one of my favorite ships at least.

**Rating: **T

**Characters: **Lorena Vargas, Elise Vogel, Basch Zwingli

**Final Word Count: **

**-[-]-[-]-[-]-[-]-[-]-**

Reaching beneath the blue flower bush, I uncovered the sack. I couldn't look at the bush though. I could still hear Feliciano's happy claim for me to cut some. I vaguely still felt the flowers in my hair. How would he react when he found them?

The sack was okay; it was a little stained, but nothing tremendous. The food was still okay, but I would have to eat the fruit soon, before it spoiled.

Cinching the bag shut, I bit into an apple. I could head off to the Western Regions, which contained a ton of seaports, suitable for over the seas travel. Or the East, which specialized in the newer versions of air travel, along with the Capital and shopping districts. The North, surprisingly, was mostly an agricultural hub. The South, where I came from, was focused more so on technological advances, excluding the East.

I lived near the border of the North and the South. The regions where divided up oddly. I would most likely have to get some more food, and while it would be easier to head to the market, I was known there. Even the night-vendors, who we very seldom talked to, could tell my parents what I had bought. There was another market a few towns over, but that was _further __**in **_the Southern Region. I would need to leave the region to be safe.

No doubt Mother might assume the worse. If I was anywhere near home when she woke up, I felt as if my heart might break. I had no reasons to leave. The occasional bit of feeling unwanted around Grandfather, but that wasn't import, was it?

I shook my head. I was always more level-headed in my decisions than Feliciano. I knew I had left for a good reason.

_You left because of a knife you found._

I left a good life for a piece of bronze. I could sell it instead, get a good price, and go to the West and join one of the ships. Maybe I could cook on the ship.

The dagger, still tucked in my trousers, felt warmer. It knew what we needed to do.

We had to go North for more supplies.

**-[-]-[-]-[-]-[-]-[-]-**

I was glad for the string I had taken.

I hadn't tested my footing on my path, stepping onto a weak patch of earth. It had crumpled beneath me, sliding me down the side of the cliff.

My fingers held tightly onto a ledge I had found. My sack of food had slipped from my back, cascading down the mountain side. I couldn't hear it reach the bottom.

I had to remember how to work my arms. They didn't want to pull up. Frozen by some unknown feeling of fear, and if I couldn't hear the bottom it would be my death for sure.

Finally, when I managed to get my upper body on the ledge, I reached for the dagger. There was a shaking, which I couldn't tell if I was shaking, or the dagger itself was. And from which, I lodged the blade into cracks, pressing it solidly inwards.

Mother's string, still tied around my wrist, found its way around the handle. The dagger wasn't the sturdiest, but it was all I had left.

So there I was, tied to a dagger in a rock face, my upper body placed on the ledge while gravity played with my dangling legs. I was stuck between a hard place and a rock.

With a huff, I pulled my legs up. There wasn't enough room on the ledge for my whole body. I was forced to reach up above me, gripping the jutting rocks. They cut into my soft flesh.

The front of my body was now pressed into the rock. I had a fine sheen of sweat surprisingly, body starting to exhaust. This was more grueling than hauling our loads to the market, which really shouldn't of surprised me. After all, I was a simple girl, in which the most tiresome thing I had ever done was carry items to the market.

All because of that stupid dagger.

I began to make my way back up, making sure to check my footing this time. I would reach as high as I could, lodging the dagger in place again before making my way up. Slowly I went, only briefly pausing to look down.

The drop was further than I expected. I could see water at the bottom, so either there was something else down there, or my fruit had magically disappeared.

Again.

Fully pulling myself onto the path again, I rolled onto my stomach. That was an adventure, more than I had had in my seventeen years of living. My arms felt exhausted, dead set on the ground. My legs had always been my strong suit but even they felt the ordeal.

Really, how did I expect to do this? A shop owner's daughter with some _strange, stupid dagger._

I wasn't sure how long I laid there. It must've been long, as the sun rose higher and higher into the sky.

I had been heading towards North from the late night and rested a bit before I had begun my trip through the mountain. I must've left early morning, judging on how I barely walked any of the path before the slip.

Once, when I was younger, before Feliciano was born, I had fallen off our roof. I was helping Father reattach some of the padding of grass and wood, the rain having slaughter it. I had lost my footing, rolling off and hitting the ground hard. My arm had been hurt pretty badly. Mother had been on me in an instant, checking over my body, telling me not to cry [though I hadn't been]. She touched my arm, and I had howled, so she sent Father away to get the doctor. He had splinted my arm, forcing it to lie flat between two boards and cloth for weeks. After the splint had been removed, my arm was stiff, so I had been on dishes do get my arm back in motion.

Now, out here, if I got injured, I would be on my own. Mother wouldn't- _no, __**couldn't**_- coddle me, Father wouldn't- _no, __**couldn't- **_run for the doctor, and the doctor _couldn't _splint my arm, all because I had went on a whim of some strange dagger.

I had practically sealed my death.

Groaning, I turned onto my side. Maybe I should've headed home, say I went to the Meadow to get something I had forgotten. I would throw the dagger off the side of that rock face, letting it clatter to its death.

_Oh, don't be ridiculous, you could never do that._

It was true, I realized sadly. Despite the almost-death and memories of home, I was having more fun than I had ever had. This was the farthest North I had ever traveled, having only been to the interior of the South.

_Exactly. You enj-_

My inner monologue was cut off as a boot rammed into my side. Coughing, I looked up to see the horrified face of a young girl, green eyes wide and hands covering her mouth.

"Oh! I am very sorry. I hadn't seen you there! Please do accept my apology!" she exclaimed, dropping to her knees beside me.

"How the _hell _do you not notice a person lying in the road?!" I hissed, turning to face her. She had a short haircut, blonde hair and green eyes on a baby face. She couldn't have been older than twelve. She wore a loose white dress beneath a grey overcoat, and when she started to check my side, I could feel the coarse material. "What the hell are you doing?"

She met my eyes, before bowing my head. "I am sorry, miss, I was just checking for any damages. And I-I didn't notice you because I wasn't paying attention! Please forgive me!" She met my eyes again. They were wide, filled with a childlike innocence. Doe-eyed. I felt my resolve met, they reminded me of Feliciano.

"Fine," I said, _gently _pushing her hands off of me. I sat up, and she scooted back. "Your apology has been accepted."

The stranger let out a breath. She held her hand out. "I am Elise Vogel, miss. And you are?"

"Lorena Vargas," I replied, stiffly shaking her hand. "Nice to meet you, Elise. It's not every day I get kicked," I joked.

She laughed a little. It was light and sweet, like Mother's laugh. "And it isn't every day I get to kick someone!"

I couldn't help but stare at Elise. She seemed so young, yet so calm and well-mannered. She must've caught me staring, as she cocked her head to one side.

"Miss Lorena, what's the matter?"

"Ah, the 'miss' isn't needed. If I come across oddly, I'm sorry, but how old are you?"

Once more, she laughed. "It's alright. Everyone asks eventually. I am 16. How old are you, M-, Lorena?" She caught herself on the 'miss' it seemed.

But, there was no way she was sixteen. She was so baby-faced, so young looking. Her being sixteen would be like Feliciano being twenty-eight: it could happen, but it seemed so impossible.

Shaking off my confusion, I answered Elise. "I'm almost 18."

We sat in silence for a few minutes. Elise was staring off at a tree or something, while I had my head tilted back towards the sky. The clouds where heavy today, obscuring the normally boy-blue sky. The sun had tucked itself away.

I felt a tap at my forearm, Elise playing with her coat afterwards. "Lorena, I am sorry if this is too forward, but would it be alright if I took you home? N-n-not like that of course!" She hid her face. "To make up for kicking you, I mean! I am making stew tonight, and you could stay overnight if you wanted! Plus it's meant to rain, and I would hate to see you get caught out here!"

I stared at her, nodding. "I- yeah, that would be nice."

Looking out of her coat, she raised a light eyebrow. "Really? You don't think me as too forward?"

"No, you're just showing some concern."

She stood up, offering me a small hand. I took it, my olive skin contrasting against her paler tone. "We should leave before the stew burns."

I noticed that neither of us made a move to let go of each other's hands though. As she led me through the mountain, she adamantly talked about some of the plants around. I couldn't help but smile at her actions. She was so energetic about things she was speaking about.

She delved into something about modern technology, about how the news printer would be able to be used by the general public now, not horded by the news companies. She spoke more on the Eastern air travel, about the amount of a certain gas it would need to rise, the proper strength of metal that could withstand the pressure, while not weighing down the ship.

Elise started on the controls, about the complicated set-up the captain would need to work all the ends of the ship. I had to stop her at one point, and when we did, I ended up standing closer to her than I thought, fingers still intertwined.

"Elise, I hate to kill your mood, but where did you learn all this?"

She waved me off. "I have an older brother, who's a bit cheap, but he bought me a few books on engineering and technology. And a new one on the airships! I read that in a night, Lorena, let me tell you." My smile grew bigger, and I let out a small laugh. She smiled back, and then we began walking.

**AN: /. Sadly, I ended this sooner, as it was a lot longer than I expected, before I even reached where I **_**wanted to end. **_**Seeing as I cut some of it out and then pasted it, maybe a few more days for another chapter? Though with band and school [coming], it'll slow down.**


	3. Companion

**AN: /. It's short, I know.**

**Rating: T**

**Characters: **Lorena Vargas, Elise Vogel, Basch Zwingli

**Final Word Count: **

**-[-]-[-]-[-]-[-]-[-]-[-]-**

Elise's home was a small one. It was surprisingly made of wood, even with a wooden roof. That was the reason it was so small most likely. Wood was a commodity for building. A stool stood outside the door, a small bin placed by its side. There seemed to be no windows, but I only could see the front. The door wasn't made of wood though; it was a cloth that felt sweet as we passed through it.

Elise let go of my hand finally. She removed her overcoat, setting it by the stove. I hadn't even thought of taking a coat, which was another one of my downfalls on this trip.

She didn't have a bed though. No, she had a pile of coarse blankets, almost looking like the same material of her coat. There was a window on the side, in which a few flowers where potted. Along with her wood stove, there was a fireplace towards the back, chimney running up the wall.

A small shelf sat by the blanket pile, each lined with books. Those must have been the books she had spoken about, with the airships and the various mountain-flowers. Knowing what she had briefly told me in the mountains, these where gifts from her older brother, who was apparently a bit stingy when it came to cash.

Clearing my throat, I asked, "So, does your brother live with you?"

Elise shook her head, standing over the stove. "Basch works a lot in the Northern Capital. If he can make it home, he will, but he usually stays there. Old family friend." There was a small smile as she said the next sentence. "But Basch is coming back tonight. He managed to get a few work release days."

"But I am sorry for being so rude! Please, sit," she said, pulling one of the blankets onto the floor. "It isn't much, but it will have to do. Forgive me."

"No, its fine, Elise," I answered, sitting down. I was right – the blanket was coarse and stringy, but warm none the less. "So, what does your brother do in the capital?"

She froze a little, shoulders rigid. "Oh, paper work. What about you, Lorena? What does your family do?" She steered the conversation away. I took that as she couldn't talk about his job. Many capital jobs where like that.

"My father works in a shop, Mother is a seamstress, and my brother is too young to work."

"You have a brother? What's his name?" she asked, spinning around on her toes to face me.

I couldn't help but smile. "Feliciano. He's about eleven."

We fell into a silence after that, her hovering over the meal, and I sitting. She stood like Mother did. Underlying self-confidence with her ankles crossed, balancing on her toes. She would lean over the meal a little, tapping her hip every few minutes. Then she'd lean back, fists on her hips.

I sat with my legs crossed, hands in my lap, green eyes impassively watching her. The way there'd be a slight dip in her hip. Her slight build could've let her pass as a guy with the right clothing, following even more with her small chest. She stood with a dignified manner, one I thought lost to the poorer classes. Grandfather, who came from the upper class, stood the same. Unless she was actually from the upper classes, which would explain her brother's capital job and her small stature. I had overheard one day while in the market with Mother, a merchant talking about the sudden rise in interest in petite girls in the Capital.

"Elise, if you don't mind me asking, where are you from?" Only one way to kill my curiosity, intrusive as it could be. The dagger, still tucked in my pants, warmed up.

"Oh. Brother tells me I'm from the West," she said.

"Tells you? You don't know where you're from?"

She paused, hand hovering beside the stove. Quietly, "I- it's a long story, Lorena." She picked a ladle, however, and louder, "Dinner is done, but I would prefer to wait for Brother, if you don't mind, of course."

I shook my head. "No, it's fine. Why don't you, uh, sit down?" I offered, like it was my house and not hers. "Your brother won't mind having me, right?"

Elise kneeled beside me, smoothing out her dress. She folded her hands in her lap, green eyes watching me. "I think Basch will be fine with it," was her answer.

"Do you bring strangers home often?"

"No, but then again, I don't kick them."

I laughed, and she smiled. "Special treatment?" I asked playfully.

She let out a small, light laugh, gently knocking me on my shoulder. "You could say that."

**-[-]-[-]-[-]-[-]-[-]-[-]-**

When Basch did arrive home, I was a bit surprise by the similarities between them. They both had the same short, blonde hair, dazzling green eyes, slight build [which I expected more from him than Elise], and slight accent. Then there were the differences, Basch's more defined face compared to Elise's baby face. He was a bit taller, only by a few inches by the look of it.

Elise was ecstatic to see him, jumping up and hugging him around his middle. "Basch! I am so happy you're home!" Pulling me forward, hands are my upper arm, she introduced me. "Lorena, this is my brother, Basch! And Basch, this is my friend, Lorena!"

Basch had regarded me, then the stew. Hadn't Elise mention something about him being cheap? "How did you two meet?" he asked.

Elise was blushing and putting her head on my shoulder. "I-well-I accidently kicked her," she muttered.

He chuckled, "Really?"

"Yes."

He rubbed her head, muttering about how she was growing up.

I still hadn't spoken. Apparently, when talking to men, I became crass and withdrawn, which Mother had pointed out to me one day in the Market. I had said something rude to the male shop owners, regarding the women much more kindly. I didn't know where I picked it up, but I figured since Elise had offered me a meal and a place to stay, I should be kind to her brother. And if not talking to him includes being kind, then that would be something I would have to do.

I helped Elise served dinner, talking to her in hush tones about numerous things. Basch moved the blankets out, and pulled a stack of wood to the middle, serving as a table.

We sat down, Elise kneeling like she always did. Basch had his legs crossed, wrists resting on the edge of the table. I sat, legs crossed, in hands in my lap. I had my eyes closed, muttering a prayer. I didn't know if the Zwingli's where a praying family. This was something Grandfather had made us do, and I had picked it up.

And I guess they weren't, as they ate firstly. I joined after a minute. The bits of vegetable, which had been sitting in the beef marinated broth, where soft, abled to be mushed. The bits of meats scattered about where tender. A few bites got stuck between my teeth. The broth itself was thick, hitting deep in all the wrong ways.

Basch and Elise where prattling about something. I was tuned out, thinking how similar this was to Mother's stew. But all stews I had eaten where like Mother's. But I had _eaten _them _with _Mother, not some family in the mountains.

"Ah, Basch," I heard Elise begin; "I also offered Lorena a place to stay tonight."

He stared at me for a few moments. His green eyes where different from Elise's. In which Elise's where a gentle type, his where harder, difficult to decipher. He stayed quiet, and I blurted out, "You don't have to."

Elise shot me a glare. She mouthed at me 'It's raining tonight.' I shrugged. I would have to learn how to sleep outside anyhow.

Basch was still watching me. "Where do you live, Lorena?" he asked.

"Southern town, towards the Northern border."

"What are you doing here?"

"Travel," I say quickly, earning another look from my blonde hostess.

Basch gave me an odd look. Not the most believable in these times. But it wasn't a lie. I was traveling, on a whim none the less. The dagger heated up against my skin. It's too human at times, picking up on certain moments, I'm starting to realize.

Basch doesn't hesitate. "How long will you stay?"

"Just for tonight." Another glance from my hostess, and there's a hint of sadness in this one.

"Alright, you can stay." Elise is collecting our bowls, resting them in the water bucket by the stove. She's looser than she was during the decision.

**-[-]-[-]-[-]-[-]-[-]-**

Elise lies between me and Basch, stretching two blankets over us small three. She's curled into me, and I rest my hand on her head like I did with Feliciano. Basch laid on his side, facing away from us. I felt bad, like it was my fault. But it did feel good to have Elise curled into me, her soft breathing dragging me further into a sleepy haze. I knew I would have to leave early in the morning, but for now I could enjoy the feeling of another person.

**-[-]-[-]-[-]-[-]-[-]-**

When I wake up, no one else is stretched on the blankets. It's just me. There's the smell of eggs, and I slept longer than anyone else.

Sitting up, I only see Elise, no Basch, most likely out doing something. "Oh, good morning Lorena, I'm sorry I didn't wake you, you just looked so peaceful."

My face feels warm as I stand and fold my blanket. "It's fine." I feel her behind me quickly, arms around my waist, and I can tell she's standing on her toes because she reaches my ears with her mouth.

"Let me go with you Lorena." She points towards the door. "I can bring a lot more supplies than what little you had, and I know a lot about healing. Plus I can fight. Please, Lorena."

"What about your brother?" They looked so happy together, and I couldn't break that, could I?

She grinned. "He suggested it. He wants me to see the world and expand my knowledge."

See the world like royalty. And she could cook, and she's warm like a little fire. "Fine."


End file.
